


Ocean Blue

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cardverse, Coronations, M/M, Pirate!England, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:19:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2384804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a pirate, Arthur's home has always been the ocean, mysterious and ever-changing and deep blue. The eyes that have haunted his dreams from his last town raid are that same color blue, and Arthur can't get them out of his mind. It's a twist of Fate that brings those eyes to him again, and he can't help but feel at home every time he looks into them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ocean Blue

The waters were surprisingly calm for midsummer, the tumultuous waves that typically roared over the oceans of Spades nearly docile as Arthur gazed out at them, leaning with ease against the port beam, arms crossed and eyes thoughtful.

"Still can't get him out of your mind, huh?"

Arthur turned to regard his first mate, rolling his eyes at Gilbert's knowing smirk. "That is none of your business, Beilschmidt," he said firmly, but his voice was still soft as a small crest of water drew his attention, causing a short flash of bright blue behind glinting lenses in his mind. That was what had drawn him, really— they were eyes the color of the ocean, a pure, untamable blue that had his pirate heart stuttering in breathlessness.

He'd always loved the ocean.

Gilbert nodded skeptically as he leant against the beam, propping his pale arms on the wood. "Sure. Because it's totally not a big deal that our captain— the infamous Captain Arthur Kirkland, most feared and ruthless pirate of his time— is completely obsessed with a set of  _eyes._ " He paused to choke back a laugh. "Yeah, okay, I guess it's not really that big a deal. Man, you really are pathetic."

If Arthur didn't value his skills in battle or his knowledge in everything else, he was sure he'd have tossed the bastard overboard already. Fortunately for said bastard, he owed him too much to do much more than glare. "You're one to talk, Beilschmidt. Tell me, have you managed to work up the balls to talk to that Jack yet?"

Arthur snickered at his first mate, who pointedly looked away to keep the very obvious blush on his cheeks hidden, but his captain knew him too well. "Shut up," he grumped. "At least I know I don't even have a chance. What's your excuse?"

Arthur fell silent at that, turning his attention back to the waves. Gilbert was right, of course; as far as he knew, the lad was a simple merchant of Spades, not the advisor to the Club monarchs, and other than the fact he was, as Gilbert had said, the most feared pirate, wanted in all four Kingdoms, he really didn't have an excuse to be pining as he was.

Bah. The great Captain Kirkland,  _pining_  for a pair of blue eyes.

Oh, how low he had fallen.

Pushing off the beam, Arthur turned to his first mate. "How long until we dock, Beilschmidt?"

"Should be another day," Gilbert replied, pushing off as well. "The current's pretty calm, and as you can tell, the wind's not much more help, either."

Arthur nodded, turning to walk to his quarters. "Very well. Take inventory and make lists as to what we need by way of supplies. Oh," he turned on his heel to face his first mate, "and let the crew know we're staying at least two days. Assuming we don't get caught," he smirked, "count this as a bit of vacation."

Gilbert saluted with two fingers. "Aye, Captain."

Arthur nodded and continued to his room, shrugging out of the long red coat and hanging it over his desk chair, undoing the cravat at his throat and tossing it aside as he slumped down onto his bed. He pulled off his boots with sigh of contentment, laying back on the cool sheets and turning his head to stare out his small window, the sky darkening from the pale blue of afternoon to the warm orange of evening as the sun set over the horizon.

He was once again consumed with the memory of blue eyes with thin framed glasses, and he let his mind wander through that day as he lay there in silence. It had been during the last raid on a port town on the southern side of the Kingdom: he'd been following Carriedo for weeks, hoping to finally catch up to the rogue Captain and show him just who ruled the seas, and on suggestion from Gilbert had stopped to stock up at the nearest place. Their stores had taken severe damage and depletion from the last encounter with the other pirate captain, and Arthur had agreed with Gilbert— he wanted to return the favor to Carriedo tenfold, of course.

Screams had filled the air, and Arthur had chuckled with amusement as he watched the citizens begging for their lives as his crew ravaged their homes and shops, taking what they pleased and what they needed. Of course, he'd made sure no one was injured unfairly— if there was one thing known about Captain Kirkland, it's that he dealt punishment only where it was due, though that never stopped people from fleeing in fear— and as the sun set he'd called his crew to return to the  _Britannia Angel_.

And it was as he was returning, stepping over debris in the cobbled streets, that he saw him: a young lad, tall, with golden hair dimmed with ash and eyes the color of his beloved ocean, staring at him, wide and curious.

Arthur hadn't given himself time to stare long, brushing past the boy in a graceful sweep of coats as he continued back to his ship, his breathing quick and his own eyes wide at the spark of  _something_  between them as they'd locked gazes. It was electric, tingling through his veins as he came aboard and barked orders to set off immediately in pursuit of Carriedo. He retired to his room early that night, filled with a sense of longing that he couldn't explain and the image of shining eyes.

Arthur groaned, rolling on his side as he shook his head vigorously to expel the memories and thoughts, burying his face in the fabric of his pillow. It was so stupid to be so obsessed with someone he'd only briefly looked upon, but he couldn't shake the bizarre sense of  _connection_  he'd felt as their eyes connected— that he still felt even now, weeks since he'd even stepped on land.

Rolling onto his back once again, Arthur cast all thought from his mind as he closed his eyes, concentrating instead on slowing his breathing and eventually letting himself be taken by sleep.

His dreams were still filled only by ocean blue eyes.

. . .

It was late the next evening, the sun once again setting upon the horizon, when the  _Britannia Angel_  pulled into the port town of Lancer on a small peninsula on the west side of Spades. Arthur and his crew had disembarked not long after letting the anchor, and the crew whooped in joy as they dispersed into the town to enjoy their nights off. Most of them made their way to the seaside tavern, intent on downing several mugs of the finest ale they could afford and scoping out beds for the night, whether in the inn or… elsewhere.

Arthur stuck with Gilbert, his first mate taking it upon himself to locate shops with the supplies they were in need of before letting his personal wants take over. The captain was glad for his first mate, really— as laidback as Gilbert was, he was always on top of things, too.

"Well, looks like there's several market shops that'll open tomorrow morning that we can get foodstuffs at," Gilbert was saying, looking at a list in his hands as Arthur listened while looking out at the ocean. "Nothing as good as Diamonds, but it'll do." He snickered.

Arthur turned a quirked eyebrow to him, a smirk pulling at his mouth. It was no secret that the fertile southern Kingdom brought in many from near and far for their exquisite cuisine; along with the luxury items that were the Kingdom's signature, their food was next. The industries of Spades prevented such conditions with the frequent bouts of smog and pollutants, while Hearts and Clubs were simply too far north and therefore lacked the appropriate conditions to truly produce anything as savory.

Not that Arthur would  _ever_  admit that he preferred the food of Diamonds; if word got around that he was actually  _enjoying_  food produced in the Kingdom of one of his greatest enemies— well, he'd never hear the end of it. Stupid frog Kings.

Gilbert and he continued on their trek to the tavern, intent on spending the night pissed and having a laugh. It was a tradition of theirs, he supposed, to drink themselves into oblivion while enjoying it all the while, simply relaxing and content to be inconspicuous for a few nights instead of the feared raiders that they were.

While many of the crew had found themselves staying in the beds of the barmaids for the night, Arthur and Gilbert both had enough common sense to lay down the coins for a couple of rooms, and they stumbled up, hanging on each other's shoulders as they made their way to the rooms, Arthur collapsing in his bed with a groan. Vaguely, he knew he'd be out helping in the morning to gather the supplies and weapons that were needed, and that he was going to have one hell of a hangover after the ale  _and_  shots, but he slipped into unconsciousness quickly as his exhaustion caught up to him.

. . .

Morning came sooner than he wanted, and Arthur was irritated that he'd been right about the hangover, his pounding head making him even more unwilling to get out of bed. But Gilbert was knocking at his door anyway, and that pounding was not helping the one going on behind his eyes, so he griped and dressed and headed out with his first mate to do what they'd come for.

As they headed toward the market, Arthur couldn't help the sneer that formed on his lips as he glanced at the houses and buildings lining the streets. "It's amazing, really," he commented offhandedly, rolling his eyes and turning to his first mate.

Gilbert shot him a look. "What is?"

Arthur gestured to the buildings. "The fact that the monarchs are nearly as wanted as I am," he elaborated.

It was true: on the walls and stalls were posters of the wanted criminals of the Kingdoms, his face smirking at him from nearly every angle as they walked. Next to each of the posters claiming that any information that might help track down the "scum" pirate captain should be reported immediately to the authorities, there were notices of the search for the new King and Queen of Spades.

The previous monarchs had finally passed earlier in the year, the duties of running the Kingdom falling solely to the recently appointed Jack, a young man of Oriental descent named Wang, according to Arthur's source (and, even if reluctantly, he did indeed trust Francis' information to be accurate— he was a bloody  _King_ , after all). He seemed to be doing an acceptable job of keeping things in line, Arthur observed, but everyone knew the Council would only be waiting a few more weeks before forcibly searching people for the Marks, whether they'd actually shown up on anyone or not.

Arthur had never approved of the need for Councils, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he was a wanted rogue. In fact, the reason he'd done what he'd done to get where he was today was because he felt that the Councils were unnecessary— all they did was exert power where they had none and hurt people, and, despite hurting people himself because of his position and reputation, he wanted it all to stop.

Gilbert glanced over at the posters and snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, well, at least being wanted as a monarch doesn't get you thrown in jail."

"This is true," Arthur agreed in amusement, following his first mate to the first stall of vendors.

The day moved slowly, Arthur helping Gilbert with the supplies as they wandered the port town, taking a break for lunch and a mug of ale when the sun reached its peak in the sky, lying low as law enforcers made rounds, looking for the wanted crew. Not that they knew Arthur was docked, but he wasn't going to take a chance. He didn't like the run-ins and it would waste valuable time to escape the cell that probably had his name on it.

He supposed they could also be making rounds for those that bore the Marks, but once someone discovered them, they usually came forward— hell, why  _wouldn't_  someone immediately announce their newfound power and status? — but there were indeed those who said nothing, either forcibly dragged to the castles to be crowned against their wills or simply reluctant to believe that it could possibly be them that was blessed as a monarch.

Arthur wasn't sure whether to see it as a blessing or curse, really, but he cast the ponderings from his mind as he continued through the town, enjoying the cool breeze from the ocean as he and Gilbert wandered the piers after loading the supplies aboard the  _Britannia Angel._

With a heavy sigh, Arthur turned to Gilbert, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I'm heading to the tavern," he said, turning toward the road back to the town. "Make sure you round up the crew as you see them."

Gilbert nodded. "Sure thing. You be careful, ya hear?" He gave a pointed look, his red eyes boring into Arthur's. "We've already had a close call once today— we don't need another."

Arthur nodded, thinking briefly of the moment he'd been standing by one of his wanted posters and a child, no more than eight years, pointed him out to his mother and commented that he looked like the picture. He'd quickly turned and headed off, cursing himself for letting his guard down so easily. Gilbert had chastised him when he picked up on the rumors that Captain Kirkland was prowling the streets amongst the civilians, and they'd stayed on the ship after dropping a few crates off to let the whispered words die down a bit before finishing their task.

"I will be," he assured his first mate, heading off. "Come find me once you round everyone up! I want to set out before this evening."

The afternoon was muggy for the beginning of summer, and Arthur had left his coat in his room, wearing only a light cotton shirt as he strolled along the streets, making his way lazily to the tavern for the promised mug of ale. His mind wandered once again to blue eyes, and he gazed out at the calm waves of the ocean, looking to the horizon and smiling faintly at the contrast of the pale baby blue of the sky to the deep azure of the water.

He should have known that once rumors began it would be longer than a few hours for the authorities to let it go. He was wanted in all Kingdoms, and the price on his head was such that it would send any mere commoner instantly into noble status, nearly eligible for a position on the Councils. The fear he had instilled in his years as a pirate made it so that anyone that was not a close friend or trusted confidant of his would gladly point him out, greedy for the reward they were offering.

Arthur had just turned a corner, heading for the tavern at the end of the street, when three men stepped in front of him, blocking his way. They were dressed in the deep blue of Spades, their uniforms pressed to perfection, tight and showing off their ripped figures. Arthur would have given them more attention if he hadn't caught sight of the blunderbusses hanging from their hips— law issued and bearing the seal of Spades.

He met the gaze of the man in front coolly, calmly, hoping the apprehension he felt was hidden behind the confident gaze he was giving him. "May I help you, gentlemen?"

The man in front scoffed. "You're a hard one to catch, Kirkland." His mouth pulled down in a sneer of derision. "But you should've known you couldn't hide forever. They'll be pleased to hear the infamous Captain Arthur Kirkland is finally off the streets and headed to the gallows."

Arthur let a smirk take his lips, feeling his heart beating rapidly in his chest. "Well, I hate to disappoint," he started, shifting his weight slightly, "but I'm afraid I've previous engagements that I simply  _must_  see to." He gave the men a two-finger salute before turning and taking off back down the street.

Despite being in fairly good physical shape from all of his fights and raids, Arthur hadn't ever been much of a runner. He'd never had to really push himself, because he was usually on board the  _Britannia Angel._  His forte was swords, not long distance running. And all soldiers were trained in a range of things, one of them being the chasing of criminals like Captain Kirkland.

Gilbert tried his hardest to help, he really did. When Arthur shot past, the yells of the men telling him to stop and give himself in, attempting to get someone— anyone— to get in the pirate's way, Gilbert immediately jumped between his captain and the men, throwing punches and trying to slow them down and throw them off. Arthur couldn't call out his thanks as out of breath as he was, throwing items and crates in his wake as he snaked through the streets, hoping to lose them.

Arthur gave them a run for their money, definitely, and he was fairly proud of his stamina, but it wasn't enough. He felt the ground meet his face with a harsh slap as he was tackled from behind, a heavy form settling on him as he struggled against the stones in the street. He was dragged harshly to his feet, his arms held behind his back so tightly he was almost worried that the man was going to pull them out of his sockets, and he wouldn't have been surprised if that was his goal.

Cheers from the bystanders filled the hot afternoon air as he was led to the town square, in the center of the hustle and bustle of the day's goings on. Arthur flinched away from the rotten rubbish thrown his way by adults and children alike but kept his head forward and high, watching the crowd form around the raised platform that was their destination. On it, two other soldiers stood waiting, faces impassive and one holding a whip. It was custom for a criminal to be lashed before being dragged to jail, as if to add injury to insult.

And Arthur was the criminal above all else.

Forced to his knees on the bloodstained wood of the platform, Arthur gazed out at the sneering faces of the town, catching sight of Gilbert being restrained in cuffs by another two soldiers, waiting for his turn. He gave his first mate a wicked grin, and Gilbert returned it with a smirk of his own; if they were going down, there would be no fear.

"Arthur Kirkland." The two men restraining him forced his head down, and he grit his teeth against the push. "For crimes against the four Kingdoms of Hoyle, including innumerable counts of manslaughter, pillaging, torture of innocents, and treason to the crowns, you are hereby sentenced to the gallows, to be hung until death."

Arthur's arms were pulled out, and he felt the cool press of metal slide under his shirt, the sword pulling against the soft fabric.

"In accordance with the laws of Spades, you shall first be whipped no more, and no less, than two score times before you are brought before this town again beneath the noose." Arthur heard the speaker pause, and he could only assume he was looking at one of the men holding him. "Remove his shirt so that his blood may be spilled in penance for the crimes he has committed."

Arthur heard the crack of the whip as the soldier prepared his swing, and he felt the sword tug upward harshly, the cotton ripping smoothly beneath the sharp edge of the blade, the fabric falling to his sides and sliding down his arms to pool at his restrained wrists. He grimaced at the ground, tensing his muscles for the first of the stinging wounds to come.

Dead silence filled the air for several long moments, the stillness making Arthur struggle to lift his head in hopes of making sense of what was going on. He hadn't heard that they were now making their prisoners anticipate the whippings, as if letting them get comfortable before the pain.

And they called  _him_  tortuous.

Arthur finally let out a huff, rolling his eyes around, narrowed as he attempted to look behind himself. "Well? Are you going to whip me or not? I don't have all day, you know."

Suddenly, his arms were released, and he nearly groaned in relief as the strain on his shoulders was no more. He brought his wrists together, rubbing the red marks of the soldiers' fingers where they had been holding him. He finally looked up, bringing himself to his feet slowly, brow furrowed, and he nearly fell back over in shock.

The soldiers were on their knees, bowing their heads low. The one who'd had the whip had tossed it away, his head dipped in respect, though Arthur could still tell there was a scowl on his face. After a moment of staring at the soldiers, he turned to look at the crowd, all of them staring at him as if he had suddenly sprouted wings, and he watched in stunned silence as the people slowly mimicked the soldiers, falling to their knees, though reluctantly.

Spinning on his heels, Arthur searched for Gilbert's face, finding him forced into a kneel and frowning that he couldn't communicate with him. Breathing heavily, he turned back to the soldier who had taken it upon himself to lead the proceeding, hoping to control the mild panic creeping into him. "What's going on?" he demanded. "Why are you all…?"

The soldier raised his head, his features schooled into practiced neutrality, though Arthur could see the utter rage in his eyes. "All hail Arthur Kirkland," he said, looking directly into Arthur's eyes, "Queen of Spades."

Arthur's breath hitched, and he looked down at himself, twisting around to look at his back. He caught site of his reflection in one of the windows of a shop across the way, and he froze once again, turning his body slowly to bring the dark design on his pale skin into view. Swirls wrapped around his hips, and on his spine sat the Spade, nearly the size of his hand. He couldn't see details, but he was sure it was a deep sapphire color, just as all the Marks were.

"No…" he breathed, staring wide-eyed. "That's not… I can't be…"

He was interrupted from his disbelief by another soldier running up, seeming frantic, his young eyes wide. "Sir! Important news!"

The soldier behind Arthur stood, gesturing for the young man to approach. "We have some as well." He held a hand out to Arthur. "The Queen has been found."

The young man stopped, moving his stunned eyes to the pirate captain. He nearly drew his sword, looking at the pirate with incredulity, before he paused, squinting at him before his eyes widened. He quickly bowed, his head nearly hitting the cobbled stones before standing back up. He looked back to the other soldier. "It is a most blessed day," he said breathlessly.

The other man grunted, and Arthur looked between them with an apprehensive feeling.

"The news I bring is wondrous, sir," the young soldier announced loudly, and the gasps running through the crowd made Arthur's stomach turn uncomfortably. He once again sought Gilbert's face, and his first mate was watching him with an unreadable expression. "The King has been found as well."

It was a whirl of blurred scenery after the announcement, Arthur being led to the palace of Spades by the same soldiers intent on harming and killing him now standing about him protectively. He'd been handed a new shirt, and he'd slid it on in a daze as he was given a horse to mount, letting the soldiers lead the mare along up the long road to the grand building that was home to the Royal Family.

Gilbert rode beside him, on his request, and stared ahead silently, a pensive expression on his face. Arthur was unnerved by the silence of his first mate, as well as all of the attention he was receiving that wasn't out for his life. He kept to himself, unsure what to say in light of the discovery.

He was the  _Queen of Spades._  Arthur hadn't even imagined it was  _conceivable_  that the possibility of him being a Royal was something that could happen— but he couldn't deny the Mark now gracing his skin, glinting subtly in the bright sunlight when it caught. He traced it lightly as they arrived at the gates, servants immediately attending him, pulling him into the palace and through the halls in a flurry of squeals, giggles, and mindless babble.

Arthur barely had time to take in the décor, led through large corridors lined with tapestries, carpets of the most royal blues, curtains over the wide windows in deep purples held with gold ties. His breath was swept away, his mind hurrying to process everything as he was brought to a grand room at the far end of one of the many wings.

There was a large bed at the far end of the room, the canopy draped in purple satin. Across the room, a stone fireplace dominated the wall, cleaned and empty in the summer heat. Bookshelves lined the walls around it, the windows to his left giving an amazing view of the balcony leading to the Royal Gardens, a private paradise for only the King and Queen. Wardrobes resided in one corner, and in the adjacent one was a lounge area, plush chairs and a long chaise set around a low coffee table with crystal bowls full of candies.

Arthur was led through the room to another set of doors that he found opened into a bathroom, the tiles shining white. A large tub was set in the corner, one of the maids filling it with steaming water and rose-scented soap, and Arthur immediately felt his nerves settle, a soft smile pulling at his lips as he inhaled the aroma. Next to the ocean, the scent of roses was one that always put him at ease, reminding him of his mother and her garden.

He was stripped once again, settling in the water with a contented sigh as his mind put the events of the day on hold for examining, happy to ignore the meaning of everything until his bath was finished. One of the servants remained behind, running a soft cloth over his pale skin, cleaning it of all the dirt he'd accumulated since his last dip in a body of water, which had been quite a while, now that he thought about it. He didn't make conversation, simply allowing himself to enjoy the warm atmosphere as much as he could before he was pulled out, dried, and led back to the main room.

Dressers and tailors were waiting, fabric piled in their arms as he was instructed to stand on a pedestal and hold his arms out. They pulled and tugged the cloth over his head, and Arthur was pleased at how the cotton of his shirts was still soft and unworn.

The tailors scurried about, adjusting the lengths of his sleeves and the length of his trousers, the brown corduroy hugging his legs tightly but comfortably. He was given a deep purple waistcoat, a length of fabric tied around his neck in a large bow, and he rolled his eyes as he thought about how gift-like it seemed.

The coat was lovely, long, and its color was the deep azure of Spades, complimenting his purple quite nicely. His hair was brushed soothingly before a hat was situated on his blond head. Gloves of a pure white were slid onto his calloused hands, and he stared at his transformed look in the large, body-length mirror set in front of him.

Arthur almost didn't recognize himself, the clean skin, the whole clothes void of frays and bloodstains. His green eyes popped against the dark eyeliner that had been applied despite his half-hearted protests, his blond hair framing his face softly. He held himself straight, his boots polished and shining in the sun falling in the window, the bow making him seem almost innocent.

He looked like royalty, and that surprised him beyond words, his heart clenching as it hit him once again that he was now Queen— the Queen of Spades, Kingdom of Industry and Progress, a force to be reckoned with in times of war.

The doors opened behind him, breaking him out of his trance. He blinked rapidly to clear his thoughts, turning to watch a man with long, dark hair sweep into his quarters, his robe sweeping along the floor along with his graceful movements. Arthur observed his face, his narrowed eyes a warm honey, dark eyebrows arched above, and lips spread in a polite smile.

"Your Highness." He bowed, his arms together in front of him as his hair fell over his shoulder. "I am Yao Wang, Jack of Spades, advisor to the Royal Family."

Arthur inclined his head after a brief pause. "Arthur Kirkland." He wasn't sure what etiquette he was expected to know, and that seemed safest.

The Jack gave him a sly grin. "You have quite the reputation, Captain," he mused, his eyes sparkling as Arthur quirked an eyebrow in unease. "I have yet to hear of such a rogue as yourself ever being given the Mark."

Arthur shifted on the pedestal, finally taking a step down so that he was no longer elevated above everyone. "I hadn't thought it possible that I would even be…" He gestured vaguely to his back. "It's… surreal, honestly."

Yao chuckled. "Indeed. Fate is a funny thing, yes?"

Arthur scoffed. "That's an understatement." He paused, glancing around simply for something to do, tugging on his cuffs. "So, does being Queen really…?"

Yao waited, his head cocked expectantly.

Arthur shuddered through a breath. "I can't bring myself to believe I'm no longer wanted for my crimes," he finally said.

It was true; he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that everything would simply be excused, forgotten simply for the Mark on his back. A ruthless pirate he may have been, but he still had a heart. He'd hurt innocent people for his own gain— how was he supposed to just accept that he was, well…

Free?

He'd lived his life on the ocean, sailing from place to place, Kingdom to Kingdom, doing what he wanted and taking just the same. More blood had been shed than anyone should have to see in a lifetime, and so many lives were on his hands that not even hiding them beneath silk could keep him from seeing the crimson that he washed off almost routinely.

Arthur clenched his fists at his sides, looking out the windows to the Gardens.

The Jack sighed softly, moving to stand next to him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "If you feel you should, you may atone for your crimes in any way you see fit," he said calmly, and Arthur met his eyes with sad ones of his own. "But only after the coronation crowning you and the new King the rightful rulers of Spades." He dropped his hand, moving away again.

"Spades has been long enough without her King and Queen," he continued. "I've done what I can, but I'm only an advisor. For anything to be done, we  _need_  the Royal Family." The Jack looked back at him intensely, eyes holding an unreadable emotion. "You are now a symbol of hope, of peace and prosperity, of leadership and greatness. People are now looking to you and your King to keep them safe, to lead them to victory and into their futures with grace, confidence, and assuredness that all will be well."

Arthur gazed at him, lips set in a thin line of determination as Yao spoke. "How is a former renegade, wanted in all Kingdoms, supposed to lead people with any of that?"

Yao simply gazed back at him. "You are the Queen of Spades, Arthur Kirkland. There is a power within you that no one but you and your King can comprehend, and it has chosen to overlook all of your wrongs and bring you here today."

Arthur shook his head, trying to clear it. "But—"

"You have skills we need, your Highness." Yao's voice raised over his, silencing him. "Knowledge, experience, a will to  _fight._ " His honey eyes were dark now, and Arthur nearly stepped back, holding only because it was something he'd done many times before when he faced an enemy. "We need you more than you know, Arthur."

"He's right, Art."

Arthur and Yao turned to the door, watching as Gilbert strutted in, a smirk on his face. Arthur frowned at his first mate, examining the dark clothes he'd apparently been given. Dark jacket, dark pants, dark boots, accented in blood red, and— was that a  _tail_  behind him?

"Gilbert?" Arthur was beyond confused, and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "What— what's going on?"

He snickered. "Wish I could say, Captain, but the only thing you need to know is that everything is playing out just as it should." He looked pointedly at Arthur. "In time, it'll all make sense."

"And how does his Highness know he can trust you?" Yao's voice was low, chilled, his eyes narrowed.

Gilbert shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Up to him, ain't it?" His eyes met Arthur's again. "But I'm sure he'll know." With a sniff, Gilbert turned on his heel, his— God, that really  _was_  a tail!— swinging lazily behind him. "I'll be seeing you around, Art." He threw a grin over his shoulder. "Make sure you know how to tap into your power, your Highness. You're gonna need it."

"Power?" Arthur was breathing heavily. "What power?"

Gilbert snorted. "What's the symbol of Spades,  _arschloch?_  Should be easy to figure out  _in time._ " With that, he was gone.

Arthur and Yao stood silently, staring where Gilbert had been for a long moment before the Jack turned back to Arthur. "It is not my place to question the Jokers," he started, and Arthur blinked in shock, "but I do need to know if you know exactly what you're getting yourself into, your Highness. The powers of the Royals are a fairy tale to entertain children, so as your advisor, I ask: what did he mean?"

Arthur stared at him. "I-I don't know," he managed. "I didn't even know the Jokers actually existed." He ran a hand through his hair, careful of his hat. "This is more than I can handle right now, Yao. I don't— I don't know if I can do this."

The doors burst open again before the Jack could respond, a servant coming to a halt before them and bowing low. "Your Highness, Jack, the coronation is to begin shortly. The King is ready."

If he couldn't feel it pounding against his chest, Arthur would have sworn his heart stopped completely. His mind was swimming with all the information, the events, the change his life had made so suddenly. He barely registered being led through the corridors again, this time to a set of grand doors that opened to reveal the throne room, judging by the ornate chairs at the head of the room. Nobles were spread around the room, taking the seats on either side of the aisle leading to the raised floor where an older man, donned in white robes accented in Spades' blue stood waiting, two crown bearers waiting to each of his sides.

He didn't even know he was hyperventilating until Yao rested his hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eyes. "Your Highness, you must  _breathe,_ " he insisted, giving a slight shake to Arthur's shoulders. "You are going to be led in next to your King. You are going to kneel at the step, and let the priest recite the rights, as is tradition of all the Kingdoms."

Arthur's breathing still hadn't slowed, and he was starting to go lightheaded.

Yao shook him again. "You are going to repeat the vows he speaks to you, accepting your rightful place as Queen of Spades, protector of this Kingdom and bearer of the Spades' Clock of Eternity. You will be crowned and presented as Queen, alongside your King, promised to him for the rest of your life."

Tunnel vision was creeping into his sight, his peripherals going fuzzy. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't do this. He couldn't—

What was happening, again?

"Your Highness! Arthur, focus!" Yao's voice was becoming distant, the ringing in his ears building. Was he still being spoken to?

"Your Highness!" The hands left his shoulders, and he felt himself sway. "Someone get him some water— Your Majesty!"

Arthur stumbled forward in his dizziness, vaguely aware of a form in front of him that seemed to be reaching for him, perhaps to steady him. He was too numb to feel surprise or shock as warmth cupped his face, sending sparks over his skin, his hands landing on solid yet soft muscles as his body tried to right itself. He blinked, unable to make the darkness go away.

"Hey, hey, you're okay. I've got ya."

The voice was smooth, settling his nerves almost instantly, pushing back the waves of nausea churning his stomach and clearing his vision of the white spots as Arthur blinked, trying to focus. He could feel soft caresses against his cheeks.

"There you go, just breathe. You're okay. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

Focusing on the voice, Arthur managed to regain his breath, the dizziness leaving as quickly as it had come, and after a moment he looked up at the man in front of him, a small grimace on his face.

Ocean blue eyes behind thin lenses, filled with concern and contentment all at once. Golden hair like sunlight, framing a young face with a wide, bright grin.

Arthur stopped breathing altogether.

The young man chuckled, continuing his soft caresses against Arthur's flushed cheeks. "I know it's not every day you wake up Queen of Spades, but it's not that bad, is it?" he joked, his blue eyes sparkling with worry.

It took a moment for Arthur to find his voice again. "N-No, it's not that bad." He still sounded breathless.

The hands cupping his face didn't still or leave him. "That's good. I think it's pretty awesome, really. I mean, me, a lowly clockmaker, King? Who'd've thought it?"

"Yeah…" Arthur shook himself internally, pulling back from the young man slightly and taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry about that. I'm not usually like that."

"Not a problem." His smile warmed Arthur's heart. "This is kinda a big deal, after all. Our coronation— wow." He shook his head with a light laugh, and Arthur found it quite endearing. "So, you ready now?"

Arthur managed a nod, turning to face the entrance to the throne room and throwing a small smile toward Yao, who was standing to the side. "Yes. I'm fine."

With a nod, the Jack turned on his heel, entering the grand room. Everyone became quiet as he stood near the last row of guests and gestured for two servants to head for the monarchs. Arthur and the young man were positioned behind the Jack, and Yao gave them a once-over before turning on his heel and facing forward.

Music sounded from the sides, and Arthur caught the sight of the trumpeters as Yao began a steady pace forward. He jumped slightly as he felt his arm slid through the young man's, and he returned the wide smile with a timid one of his own. With one last deep breath, Arthur tilted his chin up as together he and the young man followed behind the Jack to the thrones where the priest waited.

Arthur saw two pillows rested against the platform, and after the gesture from the robed priest, he knelt on the one to the right, bowing his head and staring at the ground, his heart once again pounding in his ears.

"People of Spades," the priest began, "we are gathered today to witness the crowning of the King and Queen, so chosen by Fate by the royal Marks placed upon them.

"In accordance with the law of all of Hoyle, land of the Four Kingdoms, the Vows of the Monarchs shall now be recited by each the King and Queen." The priest paused, and Arthur could feel him move over to the young man.

"Rise, sir, and repeat after me."

Arthur held his breath again.

" _I, Alfred Jones, do swear upon my life to serve and protect the Kingdom of Spades with my life and power, to be just and fair in all decisions, to uphold the values of the Kingdom, to lead the people to greater prosperity, and to always put my people before myself, as is my duty as King."_

Arthur listened to the shifting of fabric as something was brought forward, and the priest's voice filled the room again.

"As is your right as King, I present to you, Alfred Jones, the Spades' Watch, symbol of our Kingdom and proof of your status."

There was a pause before the priest spoke again, telling the young man— Alfred— to kneel once again. Arthur sensed one of the crown bearers moving forward.

"By Divine Right, I do hereby place this crown upon your head, officiating your right to rule as King of Spades." Finishing with that, Arthur felt the old priest's presence in front of him.

"Rise, sir." Arthur pushed himself off the ground with all the grace he could muster, facing the gentle eyes of the priest. "Repeat after me."

It was uncanny, and Arthur wasn't sure how he knew, but as the priest gave him the words, Arthur could see them in his mind, reciting with ease.

_"I, Arthur Kirkland, do swear upon my life and honor to serve and protect the Kingdom of Spades with my life and power, to be just and fair in all decisions, to uphold the values of the Kingdom, and to lead the people forward to a greater future, forever by my King's side, as is my duty as Queen."_

Nodding slightly, the priest turned, waiting as another man brought out a large item, circular and disk-like. The priest took it carefully, turning back to Arthur and holding the clock up before him.

"As is your right as Queen, I present to you, Arthur Kirkland, the Spades' Clock of Eternity, companion to the Watch and proof of your status."

Arthur took the large item gently, feeling a surge of energy flow through him and watching in wonder as the still clock began ticking.

The priest smiled, inclining his head. "Kneel, Arthur."

Arthur fell to his knee once again, and he glanced up under his lashes as the second crown bearer approached. The priest lifted the silvery crown, leaning down gently to remove Arthur's hat and set it aside, before holding up the crown.

"By Divine Right, I do hereby place this crown upon your head, officiating your right to rule as Queen of Spades."

Arthur felt the metal encase his head, resting delicately in his hair as he glanced back up. The priest nodded to the crown bearers and they moved back before he took his place once again in the center of the platform.

"Rise, Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland."

They did as told, Arthur turning to face Alfred, his King, with a small smile on his lips. Alfred held out a hand to him, and shifting the clock to rest by his knee, he slid his easily into it, feeling their fingers slip together effortlessly, a rush of surging and tingling electricity shooting through his veins.

"The Vows have been recited and the symbols received, as decreed by the tradition set forth by the Four Kingdoms. I now present you, people of Spades, with your King and Queen."

Cheers erupted in the room, and Arthur tightened his hold on Alfred's hand as they were congratulated, whistles and hollers sounding from the few merchants allowed to view in the back. Arthur smiled faintly, his mind wandering once again as he was ushered out of the room next to Alfred, both of them led down yet another hall to an even grander room, this one filled with lounge items: tables, sofas, chaises, plush seats, and bookshelves. There were two fireplaces, both empty, and large windows adorned the left and front walls. It seemed to Arthur to be a gathering or receiving room, and he let out a long sigh as he and Alfred were left alone, the servants bowing on their way out.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair again, catching the crown before he knocked it off his head. "Well. That was…"

"Fun," Alfred supplied, smiling at him. "Well, it was for me. I don't know about you."

Arthur just nodded, looking away from the intense gaze of his King. "Yes, I suppose it was."

They fell silent, though it was comfortable, and Arthur eventually made his way to one of the sofas, Alfred following behind, seemingly lost in deep thought as he watched Arthur.

"I never forgot your eyes, you know."

Arthur's head shot up, his eyes wide. "Excuse me?"

Alfred's smile was gentle. "I never forgot your eyes. They were the most stunning shade of emerald I've ever seen— still are, I guess." He paused, tilting his head. "I dreamed about them sometimes. They never left my mind.

"I kept telling myself," Alfred continued, walking over to Arthur and sitting beside him, "that one day I'd find you again, if only to see your eyes." He chuckled, reaching out a hand to stroke along Arthur's cheek. "Funny how Fate works, yeah?"

Arthur choked on air. "Understatement," he breathed, unable to look away from Alfred's eyes. "I couldn't forget yours, either," he admitted after a moment. "I've always loved the ocean— it's been my home so long…" He leant into Alfred's hand on his cheek. "But your eyes— they're the most pure ocean blue I've ever seen."

Alfred chuckled, caressing Arthur's cheek with his thumb again. "Pirate through and through, aren't ya?"

Arthur breathed deeply, a smirk spreading on his lips despite the throb of his heart. "It's in my blood, Alfred. Adventure, danger— it's who I am."

He wasn't going to deny his past— Alfred knew anyway, remembered him as the captain he was, vengeful, fearless, and on top of the world. It was a part of him— the blood, the fights, the crimes he'd committed in hopes that something would change, that  _he_ could change it— and as he realized that, a sense of peace came over him, making him relax into Alfred.

He  _could_  change it, now. He was the new Queen of Spades, and it was part of his duty to lead his people to a better way of living. Alongside Alfred, he could change things to give the people what they needed and deserved.

Of course, he wasn't a fool; it would be no easy task, and being a former pirate captain wanted throughout Hoyle, he couldn't imagine he had much support in the Council, if any at all, and there were only a few people out there that he might be able to rely on. Briefly, his crew flashed through his mind, and he considered getting back in touch with them— those who worked on the  _Britannia Angel_  were loyal men, and he didn't want them to think he was any less of a man simply because he was Queen now.

Gilbert's words played back in his mind, warning him to awaken the power he held inside him and to make ready for what was to come— whatever that was. He had heard the stories of the powers of the Royal Families in the Kingdoms, powers that, at one time, had supposedly been used to protect and defend when the Divine forces came into play. Once the Councils were formed, it was said that the Royals hadn't a need for their powers anymore, and that they eventually went dormant until they ceased to be at all, falling into legend.

But Arthur could feel it in himself, a power too great for anyone but him and Alfred to possibly understand. He knew Alfred could feel it too; the blue in his eyes was like fire, nearly glowing with his unlocked gift as he held Arthur close and stroked his hair, enjoying the calm evening after such a hectic day.

Arthur wondered if Alfred had any idea of the power within him, or if he'd had any contact with the Jokers, but pushed the thoughts aside. For now, they were simply Alfred and Arthur, the new King and Queen of Spades, and the only thing they need worry about was the second tradition of their Kingdom to be followed, which was their marriage and eventual consummation of their bond as the Royal Family of Spades.

Arthur shivered at the thought, smiling up at his King discreetly. Alfred's eyes landed on his, and he smiled wide, leaning down slightly to press a soft kiss— an acknowledgement— to his temple.

Their bond was a strong one, he knew, and Arthur was content to lose himself in the ocean of Alfred's eyes.

He was a pirate at heart, and the ocean was his home.


	2. Pirate Heart

Arthur would always prefer the summer season, if only because of his fascination with the shade of blue the sky held throughout the day: a light, calm cerulean, cheerful almost, accented with the pale white of the clouds rolling lazily across it and the bright canary yellow of the sun situated high and making a graceful arc through it. He preferred it because the ocean would reflect it at him as he sailed, surrounding him with a serene sense of peace and tranquility, the warm breeze caressing his face, soft as a lover's touch and just as intimate.

The cooling temperature of the autumn season brought with it a deeper blue, a richer azure that felt content yet serious as it observed the world and turned his beloved ocean dark, unsettled the water and brought with it jumping waves that would batter at his ship, tossing him and his crew about as they searched the seas for a greater purpose.

Autumn was not Arthur's preferred season, but he could not deny his draw to the hue of the darkening sky nonetheless, staring out across the horizon from the balcony of his quarters as the chilling wind of the season nipped at his cheeks, rosy from each brush of air against his skin.

"You're gonna catch a cold standing out here, ya know."

Arthur blinked and turned, placing his gloved hands on the marbled stone of the balustrade as he smiled at the approaching blond, sun-golden hair with the strange cowlick stirring in the languid breeze. He leant back into the warmth of Alfred as arms encircled him, gazing up into his favorite pools of blue, shining contently as they gazed back at him, crinkled in happiness from the wide smile on the lad's lips. Pushing up on his toes, Arthur caught those lips in a chaste, sweet kiss before pulling back with a light chuckle.

"You forget who I am, love," he remarked, turning back to stare out at the sky, the sun falling slowly at the edge of his vision behind the trees at the borders of the Garden. "This is nothing compared to the howling winds during an arctic storm off the coast of Clubs." He turned his head up, looking at Alfred nearly upside down, smirking. "And my coat was not nearly so thick as this one."

Alfred just rolled his eyes, tightening his hold around Arthur and pressing a kiss to his temple. "Fair enough," he conceded, settling his chin on the former pirate's shoulder contently. "But it's gonna suck if you're sick at the wedding. That's in two weeks, by the way," he added cheekily, laughing and nuzzling into his Queen as Arthur elbowed him in his side.

As if Arthur could possibly forget his own wedding.

It had been a tedious two months since the day their Marks were discovered and both Alfred and Arthur were thrust into their roles as King and Queen of Spades, positions they'd found quite suited them despite their previous occupations of simple clockmaker and feared rogue. Yao had been a great form of support for them both, though especially for Arthur who still struggled with coming to terms that he was, well, grudgingly respected as a figure of authority instead of a hunted criminal; it was strange, honestly, that he could now technically take a stroll through the Kingdom—  _his_  Kingdom, at that— and not be chased or cornered, and instead those he passed would be expected to bow in his wake.

He couldn't say he disliked it, per se, but was still highly uncomfortable with the power he held over them. And that was just the power that came with the title— it didn't even include the innate power within him, the reason he was chosen as Queen. He still had yet to truly grasp that he  _had_  power— true, magical abilities that, according to the mild research he'd been able to do, had something to do with time if he was understanding it all correctly— and that it was something he'd eventually have to learn to use and control.

Controlling time— that was a daunting idea.

Thankfully, he'd been too distracted with the lessons he had to endure on being the Queen and the consequential responsibilities that came with the honor of being in charge of an entire kingdom of people to think on it too much, and therefore avoid yet another panic attack. It was mindless work, nothing more than reciting etiquette rules as he learnt them and committing them to memory, sitting in on Council meetings and giving his input and permission for one thing or another, looking over the laws submitted to them and approving or vetoing alongside his King based on the needs of the people.

When he found himself too caught up in his thoughts of Gilbert's parting words at odd times of the day and night, Arthur would throw himself into overseeing personally the plans for his and Alfred's impending wedding, taking place at the halfway mark of the autumn season when it was convenient for the appropriate guests to attend, namely the other Royal Families.

It was an odd sense of apprehension and anticipation that overcame him whenever he thought of meeting the other Royals, being introduced to them as their equal and knowing he would be interacting with them as much as was needed and expected of him and his King. Odd, because he wasn't sure just exactly what to expect once meeting them, seeing as how he'd committed treason against each and every one of the Kingdoms in his time on the oceans. The picture of his face had been on wanted signs for nearly as long as he'd been Captain Kirkland, and it was unsettling to wonder if any of the Royals actually felt personally offended by his actions.

These thoughts would unfailingly take him to his most favorite enemy, and he couldn't help but scoff and smirk at the thought of seeing Francis' face once again, this time in a position where the frog could do nothing against him if he didn't want to incur a declaration of war from Spades on Diamonds or the feared wrath of Captain Arthur Kirkland, especially now he was a Queen.

Arthur took great pleasure in those musings; pirate at heart, indeed.

Regardless of the feelings he harbored, he was quite content to watch as the servants worked to make the wedding perfect and to the standards of their monarchs. Alfred had immediately informed him that he did not care one bit about the details of the wedding and that he was simply happy with knowing it was Arthur he was marrying, and so had left everything up to his Queen's discretion. Arthur, after a short argument where he was reassured countless times that it was "totally cool that he got what he wanted", proceeded to take complete advantage of his power over the wedding details and had it tailored to exactly what he wanted.

To the majority's surprise, Arthur was not an overly extravagant Queen, as they usually were, and had simply asked that the throne room— where the wedding was to take place— be filled with Midnight Skies, a type of rose unique to the Spades Kingdom. Unlike normal roses, Midnight Skies were the color of their namesake, a deep nearly black indigo that shone with a deep royal blue sheen under the moonlight. Their aroma was a soothing, clean smell, like the air before it rained, and it reminded Arthur of his days out at sea when storms stirred the waters and cleansed his sword of the blood of whatever poor souls had the misfortune of finding themselves on the wrong end of the blade.

Arthur only wanted that same feeling of clean and  _pure_  at his wedding. He was no longer the ruthless pirate captain that stained his clothes crimson; he now wore the calm blue of Spades, and he wanted his life with Alfred, his King, to start as peaceful as it could before whatever danger the Joker had warned him of upset his life once again.

That was another thing that occupied his attention, though for a different reason entirely: his future with Alfred, and what was to follow their wedding. It was common knowledge, an expectation, that the night following the ceremony binding the King and Queen of a Kingdom together they would consummate that bond, sharing love and passion as they became one. Thoughts of that nature never failed to bring a flush of excitement and desire to Arthur's face, his heart speeding in his chest and warmth flooding his veins as he imagined Alfred above him,  _inside_  him, and finally a part of him like no one had ever been before.

Blinking again, Arthur inhaled deeply as he felt Alfred's arms slide from around his waist, his hands instead heading to rest on his hips as he stood pressed up against his Queen, sending sparks of tingling pleasure up Arthur's spine and burning heat down to other places. "You're thinking really hard there, Artie." His normally bright voice was low, concerned. "You alright?"

Arthur sighed as he leant his head back against his King's shoulder, still gazing out at the horizon as he willed his hot face to cool. The wind continued to nip at his nose as he breathed in the chilled air. "I'm fine, Alfred," he murmured, and he was; he was content standing with his King and future husband in two weeks' time. His lips quirked up at the corners, and he pressed back against Alfred with a deliberate grind of his hips, holding back the snicker wanting to escape at the sharp intake of breath in his ear. "I was simply thinking of our wedding."

Arthur shivered at the predatory growl against the back of his neck as Alfred gripped his hips tighter, and he let out a breathless chuckle when he started pressing hungry kiss to his throat and shoulders beneath his silk shirt. " _Just_  the wedding?" His voice was husky, rough, and the Queen tilted his head to the side to allow Alfred more room.

Arthur moved one hand up, reaching behind himself to tangle it in his King's hair as his other twined his fingers with those on his hip, a smirk on his lips. "Well, more specifically  _after_ the wedding…"

The one thing Arthur disliked about this "dead period", so to speak, was that because he and Alfred were not married yet, they could not share quarters, as per tradition of the Kingdoms. Grudgingly, he understood the reasoning; the practice of keeping the King and Queen in separate rooms in adjacent wings of the palace was simply resultant of the rare times that the successors to the current monarchs were practically still children when Marked, and the less rare but still unusual times that the current monarchs were still alive and ruling when the successors were Marked. It simply made for uncomfortable situations between the successors, and it was easier to keep them apart until they were married and had consummated their bond.

It was also a precaution against those who attempted to fake the Marks and therefore protect the virtue of the true monarchs, as there had been instances where someone had come forward claiming to be in possession of a Mark, and it had been found falsified after the coronation, marriage, and consummation. The bond between and King and Queen was a very serious matter, and in those instances it was nearly impossible for the true monarchs to feel worthy of their positions and of each other, though no blame could be placed upon them. Arthur respected the decision, as he knew he would be mortified if he found Alfred was not truly his King, his mate, his bonded.

It did  _not_  mean that he had to particularly like the tradition, however, as he could feel it in his soul that he and the man pressed against him currently were truly bound together by a deeper power.

The fact that he was also currently feeling very turned on and wanton— and really, he was still a pirate at heart, dammit! He was not so used to keeping his urges to himself— were not helping matters one bloody bit.

Alfred just grinned against his skin, nipping it lightly and drawing out little whines from his Queen— that Arthur would deny making later— before placing one last tender kiss against Arthur's mouth and pulling back, smiling broadly with such innocence that the repentant renegade in Arthur cringed at the thought of staining that purity with his guilt and plaguing him with his demons.

Pushing the black thoughts from his mind, he returned the smile with a soft one of his own, still breathing heavily as he turned, reaching to cup his King's face and stealing another kiss. "Careful, love," he murmured against plump lips, feeling Alfred laugh against him. "I was known for breaking laws."

Alfred pressed their lips together again. "Is that a threat against your King, Artie?"

The Queen grinned devilishly, pulling back just far enough to gaze directly into the ocean blue eyes he fell in love with. "That's a promise, boy."

. . .

The Jack kept his narrowed, piercing gaze on Arthur in the mirror as servants slipped and pulled garments over his body, his arms held out as the tailors adjusted the cloth against him to fit as it should. It was unnerving to be observed to intensely, and the Queen scowled at him, unamused, in the reflective surface.

"I'm sure there's  _something_  for you to do that's more useful than staring at me, Yao." He quirked a large eyebrow at the Oriental man, watching a smile grace his features as he nodded in agreement.

"If there were," he said, eyes still on Arthur, "I would be attending to it, I assure you, your Highness. As it stands, however, the most I have to do right now is stand about and wait."

Arthur scoffed softly, rolling his eyes and looking away from the Jack to the servants bustling about him, watching intently as the white satin of his shirt was tightened to hug his limbs and frame like a glove, the matching white corduroy of his trousers in the final stages of hemming and the dark royal purple waistcoat being buttoned for him. "And you are doing a fine job of it, Yao, but honestly: is the staring necessary?"

The Jack's eyes twinkled at him. "Someone must keep an eye on you, Arthur."

"What exactly do you think I'd do if I weren't being watched?"

Yao simply gazed at him pointedly, his head quirked to the side, and Arthur had to fight the smile wanting to cross his lips. He knew the Jack knew  _exactly_  what he'd do if left to his own devices— Alfred was only on the other end of the palace, after all. It wasn't  _that_  long of a walk.

"Are you excited for today, your Highness?" Yao asked instead, his smile genuine and pleasant.

Shaking his head fondly at the oh-so-subtle subject change, Arthur turned his attention to his window, looking out into the Gardens. "I've been waiting for today for nearly two and a half months, Yao. I'm just glad it's here, finally." He didn't have to say in so many words that, yes, he was terribly excited for the day— Yao understood perfectly.

Arthur looked back to the mirror in time to see Yao nod and turn away to address a servant needing his assistance, and the former pirate returned his attention to the tailors and dressers, watching as a long white coat was brought towards him, and he took a moment to examine it as it was held before him. It was accented in Spades blue— the lining of the cuffs and lapels, and the design of Spades symbols along the bottom hem— made of a sturdy fabric, allowing fluid movement as it was slid onto his arms and over his shoulders, the collar large and high behind his head, fanned out and curled slightly around his face.

A bit extravagant, but traditional of the Queen of Spades. Arthur would deal.

He held his hands out as a pair of silk gloves of a deep charcoal were slid onto his long fingers, and Arthur was pleased that they were some color against the white; he was pale enough as it was, and he seemed almost ethereal when he looked himself over in the mirror. Dark brown boots that laced up to his knees were also presented to him, bringing warmth against the cool of the purple of his waistcoat and livening the monotone theme of the rest of the ensemble.

As soon as they had finished with his clothes, Arthur was allowed off the pedestal to sit before yet another servant as she combed through his hair, gently removing the slight tangles with slow strokes of the teethed instrument. With great care, she then lifted his crown from its place on the cushioned pillow where it was kept clean and unblemished, setting it delicately atop his head. On his request, she smiled as she brought out three Midnight Skies and threaded them through the silver, adding a bit of decoration to the glinting metal and securing a small half-veil beneath to hang down. Stepping back, she bowed as he rose from the chair and turned to face those attending him, giving them all a faint smile as they inclined their heads respectfully.

He was ready.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur straightened his back and turned to follow Yao out of his chambers, the servants scurrying about to put his rooms back in order as he swept out of the room behind the Jack, walking behind him and through the halls to stand at the top of the grand staircase across the throne room, watching from the behind the banister as the guests trickled in. He could hear the low murmurs of conversation, watching calmly as they filtered into the room below him, and he was amazed at the rush of color now flooding the Spades Palace.

While the cool blues and purples of the Kingdom remained in the décor, the halls were now also filled with people wearing the fiery reds of Hearts, their coats and dresses a deep and intense hue that reminded Arthur of blood. The Kingdom of Hearts was, ironically, the heart of medicine and healing, and the former pirate caught a fleeting glimpse of their travelling banners, the same deep red with the symbol of Hearts embossed in white against it: the Caduceus of Longevity. Hoyle's greatest physicians and doctors were more often than not trained at the renowned academies of medicine and biology, and it was a great honor to bear a degree from the prestigious institutions.

Arthur did not know much about the Royal Family of Hearts, besides the common gossip he would mindlessly listen to when his ship docked along the shores of the Kingdom and he was spending a night or two at an inn— the King was a young man of Spades originally, trained at the military academies and fairly high ranked from what Arthur had heard before discovering his Mark. The Queen was a quiet man of Oriental descent, a native of the Kingdom that had studied medicine until his Mark appeared. The Jack was from a long line of nobility, an old family who had held the position of advisors for centuries, and Arthur had no other knowledge of him than that.

Along with the reds, there was the calming nature tones of Clubs, the dark evergreen cloaks swishing about as the guests conversed on their way into the throne room. Their banner was billowing gently in a light breeze coming through the open doors of the palace, the Evergreen of Life stitched into the fabric.

He knew a bit more of the King of Clubs, though only from rumors spoken only in the silence of night behind closed doors. Supposedly, King Ivan was a fearsome man with a heart nearly as cold as the howling winds that battered the frozen tundra lands of the northernmost Kingdom. Arthur had never met his wrath personally but still chose to avoid the possibility by staying far from the icy waters. The Queen, he'd heard, was just as ironfisted as her King, head of their military which was unusual for a woman who was not a King.

Following his thoughts, Arthur suddenly glanced down over the crowd, searching for a certain head amongst the guests, his eyes drawn to the dark brunet hair with a high bouncing curl, the owner clad in a deep emerald coat and looking bored to death, and the Queen of Spades smirked. Arthur had made fun of his first mate often for his infatuation with the Jack of Clubs, a man by the name of Roderich Edelstein who came from a family of musical prodigies. He could only imagine how Roderich managed to advise his monarchs, and his heart went out to him as he looked upon the admittedly intimidating form of the King of Clubs, sitting pleasantly with a warm smile on his face as he conversed with one of his servants.

Shivering from a sudden chill, Arthur turned his attention back to the flow of guests, sneering when he caught sight of the gaudy orange of a Diamond noble.

Though it pained him, Arthur probably knew more of the tropical Kingdom's Royal Family than he would prefer. The Loom of Luxury seemed to mock him silently as he gazed up at the sunset colored banner, and he stuck his tongue out at it childishly as his thoughts turned to memories best left buried in his mind, at least as far as he was concerned. His past with the Diamondite King was full of arguments and irritation, if only because he couldn't stand the man's idiotic obsession with the idea of "love for all." Not that love was something to scoff at, oh no— Arthur was in love with the idea of love, but he was also realistic and knew that not everything was that simple. The blank faces of his many victims flashed through his mind, and a frown curled on his lips.

No. Love was not so simple for a pirate.

Brushing those thoughts aside, Arthur instead mused on the wellbeing of the lovely Queen of Diamonds, a young woman who was so sweet he was sure she deserved better than his most favorite enemy as her husband, though Arthur knew they did not share the same bond as that of the Spades' monarchs always did— it was a special bond, really, that only the King and Queen of Spades had, as he'd never heard of such devotion and love being shared between monarchs of the other Kingdoms.

The Jack was, curiously enough, the older brother of the Queen, a reserved man who would just as soon shoot someone than have to advise or even simply talk to anyone, and Arthur wondered how they managed from day to day, though however they did, it worked.

"Your Highness seems to be deep in thought." Arthur turned his attention to his Jack, pulling himself out of his musings. Yao watched him with curious eyes.

The Queen shrugged, gazing in at the people filling the throne room, all of them there for him and Alfred. "It's almost odd to see so much color," he finally spoke, making a sweep of the added decorations with his eyes. "I'd become used to nothing but blue and purple."

The Jack nodded in understanding. "It is a rare thing to see as much in one Kingdom at a time."

Arthur hummed in agreement, watching as the last of the guests made their way to the room, feeling his stomach clench as anticipation began settling within his chest. "It's time, isn't it?"

Yao smiled and Arthur took a deep, calming breath as he was urged by the servants attending him to stand at the foot of the staircase, the Jack standing next to him to guide him inside at the proper time.

A royal wedding was similar to a common one in that the Queen was led down the aisle and they and the King traded rings— typically already picked out; Arthur had wanted simple and so had settled with Alfred on plain titanium bands— and vows in front of a priest. The difference was that they would then be asked to recite the crowning Vows once again and presented, formally to the other rulers, as the true and official Royals of the Kingdom.

It seemed a bit tiresome, to Arthur, to have to basically be crowned once again just because the first time was not in front of the other Kings and Queens. He understood the protocol— really, it was to ensure the proper bodies witnessed what needed to be witnessed— but insisting that the crowning take place immediately after finding the successors and not waiting until the wedding in the first place was quite cumbersome and wholly pointless.

Not that Arthur's opinion actually mattered on this subject, so he simply held his tongue in front of the Council and vented about it to Alfred later when they spent time in the Gardens late in the evening.

The soft unintelligible conversation wafting from the open throne room doors silenced completely as a sudden long note sounded from one of the trumpeters Arthur knew were lined along the edges of the room, and he felt his heart speed in his chest as Yao turned to him with sparkling eyes, holding his hand out for the Queen to take. Arthur breathed deeply once more before stepping forward, allowing the Jack to take his arm and stand with him at the entrance to the grand room.

His eyes wandered over the heads of the guests, the room filled beyond even the crowning ceremony, and twice as stuffy. The Midnight Skies hung in beautiful waterfalls of deep, inky blue from the arching supports along the walls and ceiling, as well as from stands at each row of seats along the aisle. A deep purple length of carpet had been laid over the marbled floor tiles, soft under Arthur's boots as he and Yao began the slow trek to the raised platform at the front, his gaze sweeping over the smiling faces of the guests from the Kingdoms. He just managed to hide his sneer towards a certain Diamond King as his eyes travelled up to the front, catching the glinting crimson eyes of a figure standing in the shadows with a friendly smirk, and his breath caught in his throat as he smiled.

Alfred looked about as impatient as he felt, standing with his arms held behind his back as he grinned with love and happiness at his Queen. Arthur let his eyes run his King's figure: he was donned in a coat of deep sapphire, the Spade-shaped buttons glinting a bright silver and hung with delicate chains; his trousers were a dark charcoal, as were his shoes, and when he brought a hand out to wave as subtly as he could, the Queen could see his gloves were a pristine white. A large, thick, and quite regal looking cloak was resting on his broad shoulders, sweeping the ground behind him in a cascade of the same sapphire as his coat. His crown rested neatly in his golden hair, nearly blending with it save for the jewels Arthur could see shining under the sunlight pouring through the large windows behind the thrones.

Arthur's hand tightened its grip on Yao's arm as he forced himself to not simply rush forward and fling himself into his waiting King's arms, the sudden rush of desire and joy in his veins making it impossibly hard to focus on tradition and formal procedure when his love, his bonded was standing  _right bloody there_  looking devilishly handsome and _fuck,_  he was seriously considering running anyone through that remained in his way with his sword, because all this waiting was idiotic and stupid and—

The feeling of calm and the sense of peace that came over him as he felt Alfred's hands cupping his flushed cheeks, caressing them softly with his thumbs, made him sigh contentedly as he vaguely registered Yao moving off to the side as they reached the front. Finally, he was standing with Alfred, able to stare into the vastness of blue in his irises as he heard the guests take their seats once again, completely ignoring the lot of them.

"Hey, Artie." His King's voice was just a whisper against his ear as his hands fell to slide into Arthur's, gripping them tightly with a loving, excited squeeze.

"Hello, love," he breathed back, and he felt the corners of his lips pull up as they turned to face the priest from before, his fatherly eyes gentle and his own smile warm.

"You two ready for this?" he whispered excitedly, chuckling softly under his breath as the monarchs nodded, before clearing his throat and raising his voice so that the room could hear.

"People of Hoyle, royal majesties of the Kingdoms, we are gathered here today to bear witness to and observe the crowning and union of the monarchs of the Kingdom of Spades, chosen according to Fate by the Marks placed upon them, a symbol of their power henceforth bestowed by the Divine.

"As tradition of the Four Kingdoms, will the monarchs please kneel?"

Arthur felt his hand squeezed once more as he and Alfred sank before the priest, heads bowed as the elderly man moved to stand before the King, his robes— simple black in color, accented in Spades' azure, as the deep blue was reserved for Alfred and white for Arthur— swishing gently about his ankles.

"Rise, sir, and repeat the Vows set forth by the Kings of our history."

Arthur smiled as he heard Alfred's strong voice once again reciting the Vows, promising to protect his people and perform his duty as King, sighing fondly when the young man knelt beside him again and brushed their fingers together. He stood as he was bid, reciting his own Vows before kneeling once again and awaiting the final step of the "official crowning" process.

Feeling a weight press to his shoulder briefly, Arthur glanced up under his lashes to the scepter in the priest's hand, gold and detailed finely, intricate symbols adorning its sides.

"The Vows have been spoken and tried as honest. Rise, Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland, monarchs of Spades."

Once again, Arthur felt his hand wrapped in the warmth of the man next to him as they stood straight and he felt a smile pulling once again at his lips as he was allowed to turn and face the shining ocean eyes of his King, his heart beating loudly against his ears, the rush of love and tender affection he felt for the man across him overwhelming him as Alfred smiled his soft smile, calm and setting his nerves at ease.

The priest allowed them a final moment before speaking again, "By custom of the Kingdom, will the bearers please step forward and present our monarchs with the rings they have chosen to represent their bond as King and Queen?"

Two young pages scurried up to the priest's sides, each holding a palm-sized, satin-lined pillow on which rested the bands, the metal clouded and engraved with small filigree, glinting under the beams of the noonday sun from the windows. Arthur reached for the one next to him as Alfred mimicked the action, and he turned to smile at his King as they gently held the rings in their hands.

"My King," the priest's voice filled the room again, and Alfred winked at Arthur, "if you would please place the ring on his finger?" As Alfred slid the band onto his hand, the metal cool against his warm skin, the priest recited the timeless promise of the Kings:

"Do you, Alfred Jones, King of Spades, take this man to be your wedded husband, bonded by the power of Fate and the Divine as your Queen and Consort, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in times of peace and prosperity, of war and struggle, to keep by your side and rule with as our true monarchs, for as long as you both shall live?"

Arthur felt the tears starting to trail down his cheeks as Alfred gazed at him steadily, intense and full of passion, desire,  _love_ — his voice rang in the former pirate's ears, seeming to caress against him as the promise was bound and sealed by two words that pierced Arthur's heart with the weight of their truth.

"I do."

It was a surreal moment, really, hearing those words. Arthur hadn't thought there was anyone who would ever see him as more than a scoundrel, and here was Alfred— young, sweet, perfect Alfred— promising to love him for the rest of his life, as if it were the easiest, most natural thing in the world. At that moment, Arthur could feel the power thrumming through the bond between them in a rush of exhilaration, filling his mind with a sense of completeness as the priest turned to him, instructing him to place the ring in his hand on Alfred's.

His hand was surprisingly steady for the mess of emotions he was inside as he slid the slim metal ring onto Alfred's calloused hand, worn from his years making clocks, sanding and smoothing and tinkering with the insides to make the most beautiful time keepers Arthur had ever seen. The pirate gazed up at his King, a light flush on his cheeks as he listened to the promise he was to make to Alfred, the promise of the Queens:

"Do you, Arthur Kirkland, Queen of Spades, take this man to be your wedded husband, bonded by the power of Fate and the Divine as your King, promised to him as his Consort, to have and to hold, in sick ness and in health, in times of peace and prosperity, of war and struggle, to stand by his side and rule by as our true monarchs, for as long as you both shall live?"

His answering "I do" was quiet, yet solid and firm, sure in his resolve in the promise, and Alfred's resulting smile melted Arthur, his knees going weak and his heart beating heavily.

He had not ever known this much love, so freely given by his King despite everything about himself being so undesirable, and it was far more than he could have ever hoped for.

The priest nodded, smiling out to the guests before turning back to the monarchs. "By the power of the Divine, and with the whole of Hoyle as represented by the Royal Families of the Four Kingdoms within, I now pronounce you King Alfred and Queen Arthur, bound by your destinies, rightful and true rulers of the Kingdom of Spades."

He paused, inclining his head in respect to his monarchs. "You may now seal the bond with a kiss."

Alfred's hands were immediately cupping his face, his breath ghosting against his cheeks as his thumbs traced feather-lightly against his Queen's chin, sweet caresses as Arthur looked up at him, his gloved hands resting on his King's chest.

"I love you, Arthur," he murmured, grinning as he leant forward, bringing their faces closer together.

"I love you too, Alfred." Arthur's reply was breathless, and his hands moved up to wind around Alfred's neck and pull him down the rest of the way, pressing their lips together harshly, hungrily, hearing in the back of his mind the applause of the guests as they came together.

The kiss was ravenous, months of pent up longing and repressed lust seeping into it as their mouths moved together, lips sliding against the other's as they finally,  _finally_  could let themselves be together, their power surging between them as the bond was acknowledged and tied.

Breaking away for much needed air, Arthur grinned up, his joy unbridled and mirrored in Alfred, his husband, and they turned to face the guests, hands clasped tightly, as they stood before them.

"People of Hoyle— lords, ladies, your royal Majesties—" The priest's voiced carried over the din, his smile wide as he gestured to the two monarchs in front of him with a low, sweeping bow. "— the King and Queen of Spades!"

. . .

It was amusing to Arthur that even Kings and Queens had a wedding reception, open to the public, their people free to flow in and out of the palace and its grounds at their pleasure, mingling with staff and guests from the other Kingdoms as if they were all the best of friends. Arthur observed it all from his place at Alfred's side, both of the new monarchs making their ways slowly through the crowd, smiling at the congratulatory exclamations and shaking hand after hand.

As soon as the reception had been deemed officially "in swing", Alfred and Arthur had been approached by Spades' closest allies, the Royal Family of Hearts. Arthur smiled politely as the tall blond King, his eyes a shocking ice blue, bowed formally before extending his hand to Alfred.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt," he introduced himself, his voice deep and resonating. "King of Hearts. My sincerest congratulations on your coronation and wedding." His mouth quirked ever so slightly. "May many years of happiness follow this day for both of you."

Alfred laughed, and Arthur continued grinning. "Thanks, man! It's nice to meet you."

Ludwig nodded in acknowledgement, gesturing to the smaller, dark-haired man at his side, clad in a light red robe with a darker crimson sash. "This my Queen, Kiku Honda."

Kiku bowed deeply, his dark eyes sparkling despite the lack of apparent expression on his face. "It is truly a pleasure." His voice was soft, calm, and Arthur liked him immediately. "We look forward to working for many more years alongside Spades as her ally."

"As do we," Arthur interjected, sliding his arm through Alfred's. "It was very nice to meet you."

Both of the Hearts monarchs inclined their heads. "It will be a pleasure to have you on our side, Captain," Ludwig mused, looking at Arthur. "I hear you're quite capable."

Arthur smirked. "Very."

With another quirk of his lips, Ludwig nodded. "Then we shall take our leave." He glanced over to the tables spread with food, delicacies from all the Kingdoms waiting to be tried. "I'm afraid I need to—" An annoyed eye roll overtook him, and Arthur shared a quirked eyebrow with Alfred. "I'm sorry, my Consort is, well. We'll be seeing you soon."

He bowed his head once more. "Your Majesties." Turning away, he strode off, Kiku shaking his head and trailing off, and Arthur didn't miss the fondly exasperated "Feliciano, put it down!" that was shouted across the room and the resulting yelp and jump of a young man next to the tables, who smiled brightly and threw himself at the approaching King of Hearts.

"It's weird that Spades is the only Kingdom where the Queen is also the Consort," Alfred piped up, wrapping an arm around Arthur's waist, pulling him close.

Arthur hummed in agreement, gazing out over the guests. "Indeed. Even more odd is that Consorts can be of different Kingdoms, don't you think?" His eyes had landed on Yao, speaking softly across the room to the tall form of the King of Clubs, the monarch cupping the Jack's face gently and smiling brightly.

"Yeah, that's like fraternizing with the enemy," Alfred muttered, glaring in the same direction. "I had the displeasure of meeting King Ivan, and let me tell you, the chills last into the next week after walking out." He shuddered involuntarily. "Though, I guess he's not all  _that_  bad," he added reluctantly. "I did walk out alive."

"That counts for something, I suppose," Arthur said lightly, grinning when Alfred nudged him in mock offense and turning to place a small kiss on his cheek. "Oh, come now. You're here with me, aren't you?"

Alfred just grinned back cheekily and stole another kiss, hugging his husband and Queen tightly for a moment before perking up. "Oh, hey! Mattie's here!"

Arthur quirked his brow again as he was suddenly being pulled across the room, letting his expression drop into a scowl as he saw the smirking face of the Diamond King watching him and his husband in amusement as they approached. "What? Alfred, who's 'Mattie'?"

"My brother!" Alfred replied happily, and he released Arthur to run and tackle the tall blond man standing next to Francis, who moved aside and towards Arthur to avoid the Spadian King coming his way. "Maaaaattie!"

Arthur watched as the young lad— startlingly identical to the King now hanging around his shoulders— smiled brightly, indigo eyes behind circular frames wide and wondrous as he caught Alfred in the hug.

"Al!"

Arthur crossed his arms, confused but warmed by the display of brotherly affection from his King and the Diamond valet. "They do look quite a bit alike, don't they?" he mused to the monarch next to him, turning to Francis.

The Diamond King smiled warmly at the display. "Indeed. He'd mentioned having a twin, but I hadn't realized they were identical."

"I didn't even know Alfred had a  _brother,_  much less a twin." Arthur huffed fondly. "I wish I'd been that close to my brothers."

Francis wisely chose to remain silent when Arthur realized what he'd said, looking away with a set line to his lips. He wasn't going to think about it, and he shook himself before turning back to the brothers. "Alfred," he called finally, gaining the attention of his husband's smiling face. "Are you going to introduce me or not?"

He smirked when Alfred dragged the young man over, nodding enthusiastically. "Oh, yeah! Artie, this is Mattie, my brother! Mattie, this is my Artie!"

The boy rolled his eyes, moving away from his brother to stand closer to Francis and bowing his head in Arthur's direction. "I'm Matthew, your Highness. Consort to the King of Diamonds. And I do apologize for the idiot you're stuck with." His smile was smug. "I'm afraid there weren't many brain cells left to spare for him."

Alfred, who'd come back to Arthur's side, pouted like a petulant child, and Arthur couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. "Oh, I like you, dear," he chuckled. "Please, call me Arthur, though. All this 'your Highness' stuff is much too formal for family. And he's really no trouble," he added, feeling Alfred's arms around him once again. "I've put up with worse. Now  _you,_  on the other hand…" He trailed off, shooting a sneer to his best frenemy.

Matthew chuckled as Francis rolled his eyes, wrapping the young man in an arm and pulling him close. "You are simply jealous that I got the better-looking brother," he quipped, a smirk turning up his lips. "But no matter. I suppose we should introduce them to Lilli and Vash,  _oui?_ "

Queen Lilli was a sweetheart, and Arthur truly felt for her having to put up with the frog on a daily basis. She was content, however, and the Jack, Vash— intimidating bugger, but Arthur approved— kept everyone in line; Arthur supposed being able to threaten to shoot everyone was a fair enough deterrent for disputes, and he smiled wistfully as it reminded him of his days doing much the same as he sailed.

There was definitely something to be said about waving guns around, he had to admit.

The sun was beginning to set when Arthur was finally approached by the dark clad figure that had been hovering along the walls, observing from afar. He turned a small smirk to his first mate, receiving a large grin in return as Gilbert sauntered up, hands in his pockets.

"Congratulations, Art," he said, his eyes twinkling playfully. "I see you've gotten over your pining."

Arthur gave him an unimpressed look, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. "More than can be said for you, Gilbert," he shot back, glancing pointedly across the room where the dark-headed Jack of Clubs was standing, looking offended by the atmosphere and like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

Gilbert's smile dropped and he looked away, pursing his lips. "We're not all so lucky, I guess." He turned back, holding his hand out to Alfred who shook it, watching the interaction between his husband and the strange man with mild unease.

"You know Artie?" he asked coolly, unsettled by the red of Gilbert's eyes and the paleness of his skin. "You a friend of his?"

Gilbert shrugged, his smirk returning. "First mate, yeah. Sailed with him for nearly six years and had his back the entire time."

Alfred's stance immediately relaxed, and his smile returned in full. "Ah, cool. I've heard stories about some of your 'adventures'."

Gilbert laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, those were great times," he agreed, before taking a deep breath and turning back to his captain, "but more are comin'." He stepped back, turning on his heel and walking away with the swagger of a carefree man, though Arthur could see the tense line of his shoulders.

"You better be prepared, Art," he called over his shoulder. "You and Al both, and the rest of the Royals. Don't know when, but it's coming."

"What's coming?" Arthur called back, suddenly on edge. "Gilbert, what's happening?"

Gilbert turned and shot him a look, more serious than he'd ever seen before. "You've got allies everywhere, Arthur, and those you think are your friends will be the downfall of Hoyle." His eyes shone dangerously, intently, and Arthur pressed himself into Alfred. "Feelings are dangerous things. Keep 'em in check."

Arthur watched as his first mate wandered off, taking a deep breath as Alfred turned him to face him.

"Artie, what was that?" he demanded, eyebrows creased in worry. "What was he talking about?"

"I don't know, Alfred," Arthur replied tiredly. "I'm new to this, and Jokers aren't here to make any sense."

Alfred's eyes widened. "Joker? He was a  _Joker?_ " He looked up where Gilbert had disappeared. "I knew I felt something about him, but I hadn't thought they actually existed."

"Neither had I." Arthur shook his head. "Before our coronation, he warned me that we needed to learn our powers, to control them, be able to use them efficiently because something is coming, Alfred. I don't know what, but it… It haunts me, Alfred. The powers of the Royals haven't been used since the creation of the Councils." The last part was bitten out, his tone sour on the last word, as if it were a disease.

"What powers?" Alfred was looking at him curiously.

Arthur shrugged, gazing up at him with a small quirk of his lips. "What's the symbol of Spades?" He repeated Gilbert's parting words to him from the coronation, reaching out to gently touch the Watch hanging from Alfred's coat.

Alfred followed his hand, coving it with his own, and remained silent for a breath. "Oh."

It was still between them for a moment before Alfred's arms wrapped around Arthur, pulling him close, lips pressing soft kisses into his hair as he held his husband tightly.

"We'll be okay, Artie," he soothed. "We'll figure it out, and we'll be okay." He pulled back, and Arthur felt strong hands once again on his face, tilting it up. Alfred's smile warmed him, setting him at ease. "We've got each other, and for now, that's all we need."

Arthur smiled against the lips that caught his in a kiss, letting it linger before pulling back. "I love you."

"Love you too, Artie." Alfred's arms fell to his hips, wrapping around him. "Always."

Arthur remained subdued in thought the rest of the evening, continuing to smile politely at his guests as they came and went around him, conversing quietly with the other monarchs before they took their leave, watching them interacting with each other easily and savoring the peace. He couldn't help but avert his gaze when he caught sight of the dark clothes of his first mate, the longing, desperate look of someone in love and unable to act on it on his features as he caressed gently down Roderich's face, the Jack's expression resigned but yearning.

The reception wound down as night fell, the sky turning inky and the stars twinkling in the dark expanse as the guests were finally ushered out of the palace, the servants beginning clean up as Alfred and Arthur headed to their shared room, finally able to be together alone without interruption.

The room was by far the grandest he'd been in, and Arthur took a moment to look around, Alfred by his side as they gazed in. On the far wall, a large, king-sized canopy bed dominated the center of the room, the curtains a deep sapphire and tied back against the mahogany posters with gold ribbon. The comforter was the same color, the sheets a lighter shade of Spades blue, several pillows piled up at the headboard. On either side of the bed were large windows, giving a lovely view to the Gardens outside.

Drawing his eyes away, Arthur took in the towering bookshelves on either side of the room, fireplaces between each, logs resting in each to prepare for the winter months ahead. To the right, a set of ornate doors led into the bathroom, where the Queen could see a large tub big enough for two. Across on the other side, a lounge area was set up, large plush chairs and two long chaises situated around low tables piled with books and candelabras.

A large fan hung from the center of the ceiling, chandeliers hanging on each side to light up the area with a low, warm glow, intimate and hazy.

Feeling his King's arms slide slowly around his hips, Arthur couldn't help the low breath that escaped him, nor the shudder of pleasure that ran up his spine as Alfred pressed himself against his Queen's back, massaging small circles into Arthur's skin through his clothes. Arthur could feel the heat rushing through him, flushing his cheeks as his husband began placing light kisses against his neck, nipping as he trailed from his chin to his collarbone, his hands tracing around the hem of the dark purple waistcoat his Queen wore.

"A-Alfred…" Arthur bit his lip, feeling his arousal beginning to stir in earnest as he was gathered in his King's arms, pulled tightly to his body. His breaths came in shorter and shorter gasps as Alfred's hands began undoing the buttons on his waistcoat, tenderly caressing his chest through his shirt.

"Mm." Alfred hummed against the skin of his neck, feeling his husband starting to melt at the ministrations and grind back against him. "I want you, Artie," he breathed huskily, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the snow white column of his Queen's throat. His hand found the hem of the shirt once more, pushing it up as he slid it up the smooth expanse of skin of Arthur's abdomen. "You have a promise to keep, you know?"

Arthur writhed against his husband, panting as the tingling sensations of pleasure shot over his nerves everywhere Alfred touched him, all of the lust and desire he felt for his King aching to burst from him, to pour out and mix with that he could feel from Alfred through their bond. He pressed himself more insistently against his husband, tilting his head to allow Alfred more room at his neck, reaching up to tangle his fingers in golden hair as something to hold on to, to anchor himself as he tried not to be swept away by the heat coursing through him, Alfred's voice in his ear making him shiver again.

"Then let me keep it, love," he managed to gasp, turning his lust-glazed eyes to the burning ocean blue of Alfred, their hot breaths mixing against his skin. "Take me, Alfred, and let me keep my promise."

With a hungry growl, Alfred had Arthur's mouth against his, his tongue licking out harshly, and Arthur was of no mind to resist as his lips were parted and invaded, his husband's arms around him and lifting him to carry him across the room, his coat falling to the floor on the way, followed by the waistcoat and shirt. He just registered the coolness of the comforter as his bare flesh hit the bed, his King ridding himself of his cloak and coat quickly before he was over Arthur again, mouthing against his throat and down his collarbone, leaving hot kisses everywhere he passed.

Arthur's fingers tangled into the blond hair, tugging as Alfred devoured him slowly, pressing up against the heat of his husband. His hands trailed down to the thin fabric of Alfred's shirt, over his shoulder blades and down his back as he mindlessly searched for the hem, pulling it up as his King's mouth found his once more. Alfred leant up just long enough to pull his shirt all the way off, Arthur watching with lidded eyes as the muscles rolled under the bronzed skin, his fingers immediately tracing over the sun-kissed chest as their mouths met once again, sloppy and wet and hot.

The sensations through the bond, the stirring power, was enough to make Arthur lightheaded and nearly delirious as he registered his boots and trousers being removed, his arousal hard and straining into the air as his husband paused to hover over him, their breathing heavy and harsh.

Alfred's eyes lingered over his husband, committing the sight of his Queen lying beneath him, lips swollen and red, hair mussed and alabaster skin flushed, arousal wet and dripping between lean legs spread for  _him_ — and  _only_  him— to memory, leaning back just long enough to kick off his own shoes and pants before settling his bared body against that of Arthur's, groaning as their erections rubbed together and reveling in the feeling of being pressed against his husband, his Queen, his bonded.

His Artie.

Arthur's arms came up around Alfred's neck, holding him close as he brought their lips back together, starved for the taste of his husband on his tongue, his fingers running through Alfred's hair as he rutted up against his King, moaning into his mouth and allowing Alfred to swallow all of the sounds, feeling his cock dripping with precome against his thighs. He shuddered when Alfred moved to place kisses and bites over his shoulders, down his chest, lips caressing his skin as his husband slowly moved lower, lingering just above the aching arousal between his legs.

Alfred looked up at his Queen, watching his chest, lined with faint scars, moving up and down rapidly with his panted gasps for air. His emerald eyes, ones Alfred had been captivated by at first sight, were hazed, unfocused, pupils dilated with want, and the King found it to be one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen. He smiled gently, leaning down to places tender kisses along milky white thighs, nuzzling against the soft, pale skin. "You're gorgeous, Artie," he breathed hotly, feeling his Queen shudder once again beneath him.

"Alfred—" His breath choked off as Alfred suddenly took him in his mouth, his chest arching off the bed as he gasped out, Alfred's tongue running up his cock slowly, curling around him and backing off and teasing along him, bringing him to the edge just to leave him and start it over again.

Oh, and was Alfred talented! Arthur bit his lip as he felt his husband's teeth teasing at his head, pulling on the foreskin gently only to release it and swipe his tongue over it, eliciting small whimpers from the former pirate as heat coiled in his gut at the ministrations, feeling his release approaching just to leave him again when Alfred slowed and pulled back. He writhed against the sheets, wanting so much to thrust up into the warm mouth and find his release, but Alfred held him down gently, his thumbs massaging Arthur's hips in a way that only intensified the sensation, hot sparks shooting through his veins with every caress and bob of Alfred's head.

Arthur was right on the cusp, the coil building to its peak, when Alfred released him, pulling back and staring down at him with dark eyes, breathing raggedly. The Queen could feel his husband's straining erection against his thigh as Alfred moved up to take his lips, and by then he was gone again, lost to the passion as his King teased his lip between his teeth, pulling gently before sliding his tongue against Arthur's and overcame him, his hands wandering over Arthur's form with soft touches, light as air on his skin.

"A-Alfred…" he gasped out, arching into the sweet touches against his sides, his mouth slipping from his husband's as he sucked in a needed breath, tilting his head with a groan as Alfred moved to suck on his throat.

"I love you, Artie." Alfred's voice hummed against the hollow at the base of his throat, causing another low moan as his King placed small kisses over the soft skin. He repeated the phrase between each press of lips, and Arthur felt his heart swell at the absolute adoration running through their bond, filling him with contentedness and peace and  _love_ — innocent, pure  _love._

Overwhelmed by the emotions filling him, Arthur acted on a surge of lust, the heat in him primal and all-consuming as he gripped the strong arms of his husband and pushed, using the surprise of the move to his advantage as he flipped them over, one long leg lifting to shift over Alfred's, seating himself on his King and pinning his hands above his head. Arthur smirked down at his husband's hungry eyes, seeing the smile on his lips, his teeth white against his tanned skin.

"You're such a tease, love," he purred, his voice husky as he leant over to nuzzle against Alfred's cheek. He pressed kisses to the underside of the strong jaw, inhaling the musky scent that wafted from Alfred's sweaty body and licking a line up from his chin to his ear. He exhaled hotly, and grinned at the shiver he felt roll through his King, the speeding of his breaths. He pulled back, looking into the ocean eyes dimmed in the night, the normally bright azure dark as the midnight sky.

"I did make you a promise, though," he continued, seeing Alfred's lips quirk up farther, and he winked. "And a captain always keeps his promises."

With that, Arthur captured Alfred's lips with his, this time allowing his tongue to push its way into his husband's accepting mouth and roam, tracing over each tooth, along the roof, over his cheeks, before tangling with Alfred's, sucking gently as his hands slid down Alfred's arms, mapping out the dips and curves of his muscles, memorizing the feel of him under his fingers as his husband's hands came to rest on his legs, gripping him tightly, and he knew there would be marks later.

He loved the way Alfred tensed beneath him, wriggling to find friction for his turgid cock, biting his lip to hold back small laughs when Arthur's fingers brushed a ticklish patch of skin and gasping against Arthur's mouth, his eyes rolling back, when he brushed against a sensitive area, where he would linger to savor the rush of white-hot pleasure through the bond, letting his own mix and enhance the experience.

He loved seeing his husband in such a mess, whining for him,  _begging_  for him to  _do_ something, for release of the building heat in his cock, right on the edge but never pushed over, the ocean of his eyes a raging storm the only Arthur could know.

Keeping his eyes on those of his King, Arthur brought a hand to his lips, licking along his first two fingers before slipping them fully into his mouth, letting his tongue wrap around them, coating them in his saliva as he watched Alfred watch him, mesmerized by his Queen's actions and wholly turned on. The former pirate could feel his King's cock perk up further against his thigh, rubbing against his own arousal, and he moaned against his fingers as he sucked on them, wetting them thoroughly before pulling them back out.

Leaning over his husband, Arthur smiled as he brought their lips together, reaching behind himself to tease around the tight ring of muscle, loosening it ever so slightly before inserting the entire finger, flinching into the kiss as Alfred licked into his mouth and massaged against his hips in a bid to distract from the uncomfortable sensation of initial penetration. He lazily swirled his finger around, loosening his hole further until he was relaxed enough for the second, still continuing to rub his hot, leaking cock against his King as their kiss became uncoordinated, slipping and coming back together, their breaths little more than short gasps for air.

His brow furrowed when he started scissoring, stretching the tight muscles out as best he could to accommodate for the impressive girth of his King, and he nearly pushed himself to orgasm at the thought of being filled so completely by Alfred. Finally pulling his fingers from himself, he looked down at his husband, trailing his fingers down the cleft of his chest.

"Do you want me, darling?" Arthur could feel his own arousal throbbing between his legs, rutting and rubbing it against that of his King's teasingly, hissing in a breath at the pleasure it caused. His hands found their way into Alfred's hair, tangling and pulling roughly as he brought their lips together, yet hovering apart, mere inches between them. "Do you want to be in me, filling me up to bursting? Claiming me as yours and only yours?" He brushed his lips across Alfred's chin, nipping where his neck met his jaw.

The sound Alfred made was a mix between a growl and a whine, and Arthur gasped when his husband bucked up under him. " _Fuck_ , Artie! Who's the fucking tease  _now?_ "

Arthur yanked his hair, pulling his head back as Alfred hissed and glared up at him with a devilish smirk. The Queen licked his lips. "Answer me clearly, love. Do you want me?"

Alfred's eyes burned like blue fire as he gazed up at Arthur, and Arthur felt the bond flare with a desire and possessiveness laced with lust and adoration so intense it nearly knocked the breath out of him. "Always, Artie."

Shuddering under the intense gaze, Arthur leant down and slotted their lips together, letting the bond fill with his love and passion as he shifted above Alfred, moaning as he felt his husband's hard, wet length slide between his ass, prodding at him when his King rolled his hips up. He slowly allowed himself to sink down, breaking their kiss to gasp as the cock pushed into him, stretching him and filling him inch by slow inch. Arthur grit his teeth, his fingers splayed over Alfred's chest as he balanced himself, before a long, low sigh of pleasure escaped his parted lips when he seated himself fully onto his husband's lap.

It took all of Alfred's concentration to not move, his panting harsh as he threw his head back at the heat encasing his throbbing cock as his Queen sat above him; his hands gripped the pale skin of Arthur's hips, lightly massaging as he allowed his husband to adjust to the feel of being so full, and he could feel his length twitch in anticipation as the emerald gaze bore into him, Arthur's eyes lidded with bliss. He stared back, running a hand up his Queen's side to his neck, cupping his face gently before trailing it back down, repeating the motion to keep help distract him from the urge to roll his hips; it was becoming harder to concentrate on not thrusting up into Arthur, to not roll them over and just pound him into the mattress  _now._

Alfred was just about to start whining when he felt Arthur's thigh muscles tense, and he gasped as his husband slowly lifted himself up, hovering for a teasing moment before sinking back down, and Alfred could no longer hold himself back, moans falling from his lips as his Queen moved on him, clenching  _just right_  as he lifted before slamming back down. Alfred met him with equal thrusts as pleasure clouded his mind, his body working on its own to bring him to orgasm.

Arthur groaned with each thrust, bouncing with increasing speed even as his legs began to burn, angling himself just so as the cock sheathed within him brushed and prodded against his prostate. Tingles raced through his body and spasms twitched through his limbs as he rode his King, his head tossed back as Alfred's hands roamed over his body, touching and caressing as their hips met over and over. Carnal desire was flowing through their bond, making it hard to think, hard to breathe, consuming and commanding.

It was all too much and not enough as Arthur was pulled down and into a fierce kiss, his lips bitten and nipped and their tongues tangling wildly as the rest of their bodies continued to slide together, colliding over and over in a mess of heat. With the press of Alfred's hand against his chest, Arthur allowed his King to push him over and lay him out on the sweat-matted sheets. Their rhythm slowed only briefly as Alfred came to hover over him before he was being filled by hard thrusts. Arthur's legs slid over the back of his husband's, his hands gripping broad shoulders, nails dragging over tanned skin as he rolled his hips back into each snap of his King's hips, fast and hard and deep and  _so good_ , he could barely gasp in enough air as he was brought to the edge of ecstasy. They were close, Alfred's thrusts becoming erratic and less precise, and Arthur could feel the coil of heat within him tighten to a peak before it all crashed over him, washing him in warmth.

"Al— _Alfred!_ " Arthur mewled out his husband's name, breaking their kiss to throw his head back against the pillows as Alfred buried himself so deep the Queen could feel his King in every fibre of his being, melded into his soul as he spilled himself in orgasm, every part of his body jerking and trembling against the intensity of pleasure rolling through him.

Alfred groaned, long and low, as his own release overcame him, the sensations he could feel from Arthur causing his eyes to roll back as euphoria washed over his mind, his nerves tingling as his seed shot deep into his Queen, his hips twitching with half-hearted, worn out jerks, milked of everything he had to offer when Arthur subconsciously clenched around him.

The feeling of wholeness, of completeness, settled in the bond between them, and Arthur knew that the sense of "being one" with his King, his bonded, was no exaggeration or symbolic figurative language— his heart and soul now belonged to Alfred, just as he could feel Alfred's heart in him, his husband's soul tied to his in a way that was simply indescribable with the mere words of man.

They panted heavily, gazing at one another as the bliss of orgasm faded, their breathing slowly returning to normal as Arthur stroked his husband's jaw tenderly, reverently, as Alfred slumped over on him, settling against him, nuzzling into the hollow at his throat. Post-coital fatigue was settling in, and Arthur was beyond content to wrap his arms around his King and simply hold him.

This was what he'd longed for, what he'd  _craved_ — a body pressed tightly to his, warmth shared between them as they lay tangled together under the black cobalt of the midnight sky— every night on the waves he'd sailed. It was hard to believe he was living it now, wrapped up in Alfred's arms, lazily running his fingers— long, nimble fingers; fingers that knew the feel of a sword gracefully arcing through the air, fingers that wouldn't hesitate on the trigger of his blunderbuss when facing an enemy, fingers that knew how hard it was to wash out crimson bloodstains from skin and fabric alike— through soft, sun-golden hair with a funny little cowlick and across sun-kissed skin that was smooth as satin under his fingertips.

Arthur could feel his heartbeat in his chest, beneath Alfred's ear as his husband laid atop him, smiling against his skin as he drifted off to sleep after placing one last, gentle kiss to Arthur's lips with a soft "I love you, Artie."

He felt it swell with trepidation for what was to come as the conversations with Gilbert flitted through his mind; with the fear that despite his intentions, he didn't deserve his position, his power, his life as it was now; but most of all, he felt it swell with affection— for his husband and for the love his husband held for him, unconditionally and freely, despite knowing who he was and what he'd done.

With a soft press of lips to his King's temple, inhaling the sweet scent in his hair, Arthur smiled faintly, his lips quirked sadly as he laid back and gazed unseeingly at the ceiling, absently stroking his husband's hair, massaging at the nape of his neck as his thoughts rolled through his mind. Arthur knew he didn't deserve any of Alfred, but he was too selfish to ever give him up now that he had him; Alfred was like treasure.

And he was still a pirate at heart, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [leviathncas](http://leviathncas.tumblr.com)


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